She'll Speak To Me : Demon America x Hunter Reader
by Asuye
Summary: The tale of the black devil who fell so deeply for the one who was hunting him down.


Quiet.

Everyday, quiet.

An unnatural silence was placed, an expanse of colourless nothingness expanding from the roots of the tiniest minutiae of the forest to the to the crowns of the trees, over the woods. It was a tarp, diligently covering every edge of the sinister arena of death. A brief glimpse of a passing creature was enough to send any normal individual sprinting off towards the roads of society that lay not a few kilometres away.

He had picked off each human who had intrepidly made their way into his home unhurriedly, without much eagerness at all. None of their souls were uncontaminated, and watching their yielding flesh of different hues of brown and peach bleed out thousands of tiny, ruby red streams out onto their creased skin was no fun to him.

He needed someone…_better_.

He needed someone _interesting. _

And now that female character, equipped with a sea of weapons was dauntlessly striding through his territory. Her shrewd eyes, that so resembled a lone petal that had fallen from its mother plant (for they were that beautiful) and landed amongst the green grass that sparkled gaily with dewdrops, would scrutinise every piece of greenery, every boulder before taking cover underneath it.

They were two sea-washed pebbles of a magical e/c, submerged in ocean waters for millennia before rolling peacefully out onto the sandy beach. Her hair was wispy; sparse threads of a h/c that resembled the strands that you find when picking at your clothes.

And the air rifle that she clenched in her thin fingers seemed so weighty; how was she able to hold something so large? he would wonder.

She had come with a male companion, a teen who appeared to be a few years older than her. He would converse with her, wondering aloud what the weather was like outside, and she would quickly slap her perspiring palm over his hand as she snapped the safety off her weapon.

Was she mute? He would think, his eyes that were as bleached as the starless skies of the Texan countryside following her movements and hidden behind two minuscule walls of clearness, noiselessly wagging his wings up and down in the air as he stalked the two partners. She would never speak to the other when he went off into his one-sided conversations.

He had a plan to erase the male from existence, so that he could have the fascinating specimen that he knew as y/n. At least that was what the boy regarded her as. _y/n_.

He would send messengers to her; a little butterfly, a hooting owl, even the most majestic swan of the heavens, yet with a flick of her wrist they would all be executed to the burning balls of fire above them. But he would not give in; he would speak to her through these creatures, tell her she would be safe, even if he depleted his sources doing it.

He was a defiant type, with a stubborn streak.

And he would never give in.

Wings slapping the air, he surveyed the scene below him. 'y/n' was prodding the pathetically crackling fire with her stick, pouting irritably. The boy was chattering away once more, his sizable front teeth clacking against his lower jaw.

y/n disregarded his comments with a vexed stamp of her foot. With that one motion, hope swelled and threatened to burst in the demon's chest; could his beloved feel the same aversion that he felt towards this person?

"Why don't you speak, y/n? I know you can!"

y/n waved her hands about in a frenzy, eyes snapping with impatience.

"Oh right. That'd be breaching the rules or something of demon-hunting."

_Demon-hunting?_ In a split second, his heart had gone from racing with fervor to the panicked beating of alarm._ She, my dear y/n, is hunting me? _

He contemplated the thought. His mind strove to dismiss the statement as unfeasible, something impossible—nay, improbable. It was inane to believe it could be counted as something true.

y/n arose from her seat on the saturated log, skimming her fingers down the splintered wood. Her friend's eyes were, for a split second, fixated unto her bosom, but he quickly drew his gaze away once she cast him a rather disparaging look. She pulled her lips backwards in what he could only assume was a smile, as she began sauntering deeper into the woods.

He eagerly traced her footsteps, his form blending in amongst the shadows as he kept the girl's attractive figure in his line of sight. As he carelessly (and purposely) let his foot rest on a brittle stick, the girl whipped her mane of peculiarly h/c hair around her shoulder. She scanned the undergrowth, pupils dilating.

He did not break the silence as her inspection finally reached his body, then slipped upwards to meet his eyes. Her lower lip shot downwards, creating a phenomenally hilarious expression. She fumbled at the latch that held her weapon to her back.

He held out a gloved hand, cloaked all in the color of the murkiness that was all around him. She halted her struggle with her equipment, mouth still agape.

"You're not really afraid. You want me to attack."

His voice was monotonous, and he astounded himself with his supposedly tedious words.

False terror was still chiseled into her features, and she stretched her mouth wider as if she would respond. But he knew that she could not, and would not.

"Stop it. The hero always knows when someone is lying."

She tossed him a disrespectful stare, abandoned all pretense, and bobbed her head in a gesture that told him he was absolutely correct.

"So, why don't you speak to me?"

Her glare had not seemed so harsh from when he was above her. Yet now that the discourteous stare was fastened onto him, he could practically feel the flames sizzling around her eyelashes.

He forced himself to give out a short, embarrassed bark of laughter. "My bad." He should have known that inquiry would have directed the encounter towards awkward.

"Still, I wish I could hear just a short sentence from you; y'know, short and sweet, concise, to the point, and all t-that…?"  
_  
You do not sound like a demon._

"W-what?" Was that...her?  
_  
It is not me speaking. Just an illusion. A nifty trick when meeting creatures like you. _

"W-whoa there. C-creatures? I'm just like you, gal."  
_  
You have bat wings, and goat horns. _

"Don't I speak rather like your boyfriend?" The question was like a needle that pricked at his heart—he didn't want to say that word. _Boyfriend. _Apparently she was irate at him as well for stating such a thing; her face showed utter revulsion.__

He is not my boyfriend. Just a travelling companion. What does it matter to you?

The hollow clink of the gun that he now had the acquaintance of knowing so well sounded through the trees. The muzzle of the gun, fancifully embroidered with little drops of colour, was prominently pointed directly at his heart.

He said hurriedly, "Please, don't. I don't want to die, gal."  
_  
And neither do the people of our town._

He stood erect and silent at that.

"You've got me there, gal."

Before the gunshot rang around the area, he was long gone, carrying himself away from the place where y/n was. He would surround his dominion with traps, spells that would prevent the two from escaping and living to tell the tale. He would find her, again, rectify things, tell her he really was no different from humans. He had a plethora of time, after all.

And one day she would talk to him.


End file.
